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Jan. 6, 2012

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Rose on Votto

If Barry Larkin gets the call Monday that he’s been elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame, the clock begins to run on when the Reds will have another one.

It could be a long wait.

If Joey Votto plays another six to seven years the way he has the past four, and then tacks on another six or seven seasons after that, he could be a Hall of Famer someday.

But it’s easy to imagine him walking before his free agent season in 2014.

If he does that, and plays say, another 10-12 years for somebody else, is he going to go into Cooperstown as a Red? Possibly not.

But Pete Rose isn’t so sure of the “Votto elsewhere” scenario.

"I’ve got to believe (Reds owner) Bob Castellini wants to keep him, because nobody wants to win more than Bob," Rose said. "(After all the recent movement by big-name first baseman), it’s not such a great time to be a first baseman and a free agent. They all want (and are getting) long-term deals.

"But there are only so many clubs out there with that kind of money to spend," Rose said. "California has (Albert) Pujols, the Yankees have (Mark) Teixeira, and somebody’s going to get Prince Fielder. I don’t know that Joey wants to go to Chicago and be a Cub. I think the Reds will try to keep him, and they might be able to, because there might not be the money out here for him somewhere else."

- John Erardi

What Makes Barry Larkin a Hall of Famer

--- 12 All-Star teams. (The only shortstops with more are Ripken and Ozzie Smith).

--- .815 career OPS (on-base plus slugging percentage) is higher than Cal Ripken’s, and 20 percent higher than the average shortstop of his era, which is a greater differential than that of Ripken, Robin Yount and Ozzie Smith.

--- Career batting average of .295 was 39 points higher than the average shortstop of his era.

--- OBP (On-Base Pct.) of .371 was 54 points higher than average SS of era.

--- He created 488 more runs than the average SS. That ranks fourth in major league history, behind only Honus Wagner, Arky Vaughan and Derek Jeter.

--- His 83.1 percent success rate on stolen bases is fifth-best all-time since the caught-stealing statistic was invented, for players with 200+ stolen bases.

--- The Quote: "For most of the 19 seasons that Larkin spent patrolling shortstop in Cincinnati, a fellow named Ozzie Smith was known as the National League's most famous shortstop. But inside the game, baseball people knew the truth -- that the real pre-eminent shortstop in the league was actually Barry Larkin." – Jayson Stark, national baseball writer.

Sources: hardballtimes.com, Complete Baseball Encyclopedia, ESPN.com

Locals in Cooperstown

If Barry Larkin (Silverton) is elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, he will become only the fifth Greater Cincinnatian to make it, and only the third as a player.

The other two players are catcher Buck Ewing (East End), who went in as a New York Gotham, and played from 1880-97, and pitcher Jim Bunning (Southgate/Philadelphia Phillies/ 1955-71).

Miller Huggins (Avondale), made it as a manager, and commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis (Millville), as an executive.

Larkin would be the first Greater Cincinnatian elected to Cooperstown by the Baseball Writers Association of America.

Ewing and Bunning were elected by the Veterans Committee.

It’s been almost a generation since a local was elected.

Bunning was the most recent, in 1996. Ewing was so good that he was elected in the Hall’s fourth year, 1939. Of all the game’s catchers, he was he was the first to make it to Valhalla.

Landis made it in 1944, Huggins in 1964.

- John Erardi

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Cincinnati, a town that has been waiting for two generations for somebody to play like Pete Rose, may have had it all along in Barry Larkin, who on Monday learns whether he'll be the next Red to make it to Cooperstown.

If he makes it – and the informed speculation is that he will (with somewhere between 75 percent and 85 percent of the vote; 75 percent is needed for election) – he will become only the 11th shortstop and first Greater Cincinnatian elected by the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA). (The Hall's veterans committee has elected an additional 13 shortstops and four other Greater Cincinnatians.)

If ever there were an heir apparent to Rose, it was Larkin, who grew up on the sandlots of Cincinnati sliding headfirst like his idol.

"Pete didn't just slide headfirst into a base, he launched himself like Superman," Larkin told an Enquirer reporter in 2009. "Growing up, that's who I wanted to be. On the bases, Pete Rose; at shortstop, Davey Concepcion."

One would be hard-pressed to come up with two better examples in a single town of how to play the game than Larkin and Rose.

Rose was Larkin's first big league manager and would have been a sure-fire first-ballot Hall of Famer (maybe even the first unanimous one) if not for his gambling transgressions.

Throughout baseball history, there has almost always been a close bond between rookies and their first managers. The manager takes the rookie under his wing, and breaks him in.

But the closeness between Larkin and Rose was more idolizer-to-idol and player-to-player (Rose was in his waning days as player-manager when Larkin first came up) than it was Rose as father figure.

Larkin already had a strong father figure right here in town, his own father, Robert, who had taught all the Larkin siblings how to play their games correctly.

Rose said he never had to have a baseball conversation with Larkin.

"Sparky (Anderson, the Big Red Machine manager) taught me a long time ago that that there are three ways to treat a player," Rose said. “Kick ‘em in the butt, pat ‘em on the butt, or leave ‘em alone. Barry, you just left alone. He knew how to play the game.

"The two things I remember most clearly about Barry was that one, he was an aggressive player, and two, he was never satisfied."

Rose does recall one particularly poignant conversation with the 22-year-old Silverton native, however.

It took place late in the 1987 season, just before new general manager Murray Cook took over and had to decide who to trade to Kansas City for pitcher Danny Jackson: Larkin or 21-year-old shortstop Kurt Stillwell, who had come up to the Reds four months earlier than Larkin.

Recalled Rose: ‘'Barry said to me, ‘Skip, I'm going to be your shortstop for the next 15 years. You do what you have to do, but that's the way it's going to be.'"

Cook, wisely, traded Stillwell – the Reds' brain trust felt Larkin had a much bigger upside – and the rest is history.

"It (weighed) in Barry's favor that he was the hometown kid," Rose recalled. "Everything else being equal, you give the edge to the hometown kid because he's going to help you sell more tickets – if it works out."

And, oh, did it ever work out. Stillwell had a good career, but Larkin went on to become one of the greatest shortstops of all-time.

A Rose is a rose

One of the forgotten symmetries of Cincinnati baseball is the way the playing careers of Larkin and Rose intersected.

Larkin's debut was Aug. 13, 1986. Four days later, Rose appeared in his final game.

Viewing those dates 25 years later, the handoff appears seamless, as precise as a baton passing from one runner to another in a relay race.

At the time, it was anything but. Nobody knew what Larkin's career would be; nobody knew it was Rose's last at-bat.

Rose was asked whether he recalled the night Larkin came up to the big leagues.

Larkin had flown in from Triple-A Denver, but had to be routed through Detroit because of bad weather in Chicago. His bags didn't arrive with him.

Recalled Larkin a few years ago: ‘'I walked into the clubhouse about 7:15 p.m. – this is back when we played 7:35 p.m. games – and I went into Pete's office and he said, ‘You're starting!' Pete gave me shoes, and Dave Parker gave me bats and Eric Davis gave me this, and everybody else gave me that."

Rose said he didn't recall that. But it did remind Rose of something.

"Barry had good (mentors) in Parker and Eric," Rose said. “Parker, there's a guy right there who should have been a Hall of Famer. He had batting titles, one MVP and he should have had two, Gold Gloves, rings. If he had 3,000 hits, he'd have been a shoo-in."

Cincinnati native Parker, like Rose, played everyday. (As a Red from 1984-87, Parker averaged 158 games a year.)

Unlike his homeboys, Larkin was injury-prone.

But he made up for it.

"He never wore down," Rose said.

"Everybody gets tired (playing baseball), but the question is, does it affect your (performance)? Do your stats suffer? It never wore Barry down that way. He wasn't a smoker or a drinker and he didn't take drugs. I'm sure he had his fun when he was single, but he managed it. Some guys never learn to manage it to where it doesn't affect (their play on the field)."

In Rose's last full season as manager in 1988, Larkin played 151 games and won his first Silver Slugger award and made his first All-Star team; in 1990, when the Reds won it all under first-year Reds manager Lou Piniella, Larkin played 158; in 1996, when he went 33-36 in HR/SB, he played 152; when the Reds surprised the world and came within a game of making the postseason in 1999, Larkin played 161.

Coming of age

If there is one thing Rose recalls fondly of his managerial tenure with the Reds, it's that he had a lot of good young players; Larkin wasn't the only one.

Rose said he had ‘'31 or 32" young Reds get their first Major League hits when managed the team.

So enamored were the Reds of Larkin that they drafted him in high school, and when he chose to go to the University of Michigan, they drafted him again three years later.

Early in Larkin's career, probably in his first or second season, then-manager Rose said that his only concern with Larkin was that Rose wished Larkin would appear to have more fun playing the game.

"It wasn't that he wasn't having fun," said Rose this week, explaining his comment from 25 years ago.

"He was having fun in the clubhouse. I think he (came across) so serious (on the field), because he wanted to do everything right. He wanted to make it (as a Red and as a Major Leaguer) and he wanted to play for a long time. I think his seriousness came from not being sure of his future when he first came up."

It is easy to pinpoint the moment when Larkin's abilities went national.

It was at Cincinnati's Riverfront Stadium in Game 2 of the Reds' extremely evenly matched 1990 National League Championship Series with the Pittsburgh Pirates.

The Reds, who had lost the opening game 4-3 on Thursday night, needed to beat Pirates ace Doug Drabek with Tom Browning, or they'd fall behind the mega-talented Bucs (Barry Bonds, Bobby Bonilla, Andy Van Slyke) two games to none.

There were 54,456 fans in the stands. It was a Friday night. Payday.

Larkin did it all: He got a hit, rolled Pirates shortstop Jay Bell at second base to break up a double play and made two scintillating plays in the ninth inning behind Reds' closer Randy Myers, who was nursing a 2-1 lead.

Two days later, the Enquirer wrote about that watershed event and added some perspective:

Eric Davis stood in left field, saying to himself, saying to the Pirates, saying to a national TV audience: "Hit one to his backhand."

Added Davis after the game: "I was hoping they'd hit one more to (Barry). One to his right. He'd backhand it, straighten up and throw a bullet to first. I've been playing behind him for four years. I'm not surprised anymore by the things he does."

It is no exaggeration to say the 10 days which is the National League Championship Series will likely be Larkin's coast-to-coast coming out party.

"His teammates know what he can do, the players around the league know what he can do, the fans in the National League cities know what he can do," Davis said. "Now the country's going to find out."

Interesecting - again

Flash forward 10 years; more symmetry, even some poetry.

June 3, 2000, Riverfront Stadium ...

Sparky Anderson and Davey Concepcion had just been elected to the Reds Hall of Fame, and the rest of the Big Red Machine was introduced and took up their old positions on the diamond. Third base was left open -- Rose, who'd been banned from baseball for gambling, wasn't allowed on the field – and Larkin set a single red rose atop third base to tumultuous applause.

It was a hugely symbolic moment, and it said everything about how Larkin felt about Rose.

“It was the right thing to do and I was happy to be a part of it,” Larkin said at the time. “It wasn't a protest. It was respect for a man I grew up adoring.”

Despite his banishment from the game, Rose still keeps up closely with the Reds and baseball in general.

He thinks it might hurt Larkin a little bit in Monday's Hall vote total that the Veterans Committee five weeks ago posthumously elected former Chicago Cubs third baseman Ron Santo to Cooperstown, a year too late for Santo enjoy it.

Santo, 70, a contemporary of Rose's, died a year ago December due to complications from bladder cancer.

"Somebody needs to be elected (every year) so there can be a party and all the people can come to Cooperstown," Rose said. "That might have put the thought (in the back of some writers' minds) that they didn't have to vote for Barry to make it happen. The Hall of Fame has its party with the people coming for Santo."

Rose might be right, because while some writers are passionate in their support for Larkin -- he performed at an extraordinarily high level compared to his peers goes the argument -- there are other writers who have said they haven't and won't vote for Larkin, because he averaged only 123 games per season (throwing out his rookie season and the strike-shortened 1994 season).

It's the biggest difference on the field between Larkin and Rose. Rose hardly ever missed a game.

Larkin missed an average of 39 games per season, an incredible one-fourth of all his team's games.

Over the course of Larkin's 19-year career, he made 14 trips to the disabled list for injuries to his toes, fingers, shoulders, elbows, back, hamstrings, ankles, knees, neck, Achilles tendon and groin.

But he made 12 All-Star teams, won 9 Silver Slugger awards (emblematic of being the best hitter at his position in the NL in a given year), helped lead the Reds to a World Championship in 1990, won a Most Valuable Player award (1995) and was the first shortstop to make the ‘'30-30" club, hitting 33 home runs and stealing 36 bases in 1996.

That is where Larkin stood out – not in his cumulative totals, but in how much better he was than his peers.

Cooperstown calling

Larkin received 62.1 percent of the Hall vote last year, in his second year on the ballot.

"You feel pretty good that (Larkin's) going to get in this year?" Rose asked. "That's a pretty big jump (62.1 percent to the 75 percent needed for election), isn't it?"

Yes, it is.

But it isn't unprecedented.

The Cubs' Ryne Sandberg made an even bigger jump in 2005, going from 61.1 percent the previous year to election with 76 percent.

Rose, ever the competitor no matter the time nor place, said that if Larkin makes Cooperstown, it will put Rose one up on former Los Angeles Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda, against whom Rose managed from 1984-89.

"Tommy had a lot of great players, but no Hall of Famers came up (on his watch)," Rose said. "He had (pitcher) Don Sutton, but Sutton came up under Walt Alston."

Fans' perceptions different

Larkin eventually followed in his idol's footsteps and became team captain, but it wasn't until eight years after Rose was banished from baseball.

"You're expected to play a certain way -- carry yourself a certain way on the field and in the clubhouse," Rose said. "You've aware the (younger guys) are watching you. Barry was a leader that way, a winner."

But there are some Reds fans that rankle at comparisons between Rose and Larkin.

There are still some Cincinnatians upset that Larkin once removed the "C" (captain's insignia) from his jersey as a show of support for his friend and clubhouse joy Lenny Harris, who had just been traded.

Said Larkin at the time: "He's the guy I called Captain."

Years later, Larkin got upset again when the Reds traded his friend and double-play mate, Bret Boone. Larkin said he'd been betrayed. Out came the boobirds, again.

Something bothered some fans about Larkin, maybe a sensitivity that his idol didn't have. Rose was perceived as more purely baseball; Larkin had some clubhouse lawyer in him.

Then, at the end of the 2000 season, Larkin -- along with teammate and fellow Moeller graduate Ken Griffey Jr. – left the dugout an inning early in Denver and caught a flight home without permission from lame-duck manager Jack McKeon, from whom Griffey said he had gotten permission. McKeon denied having OK'd it.

It engendered more bad vibes for Larkin.

And he took another beating from fans when he went over the head of Reds chief operating officer John Allen to get a big final contract from Reds owner Carl Lindner.

But Rose gives short shrift to anybody looking for chinks in Larkin's approach.

Nobody's perfect – not Honus Wagner, not Cal Ripken, not Ozzie Smith, and certainly not the Hit King, who in the past couple of years has come to grips with his own shortcomings as a teammate, friend and role model.

"I'm happy for Barry," Rose said. "He played hard. He gave you everything he had."